Coming to Midgar had been a shock for the young girl.
Moreso when she considered the circumstances in which she'd arrived. Waking up in a panic, skin slick with sweat and unsure at first if the fire and blood she saw when she closed her eyes was a fresh memory or just a nightmare.
It had taken roughly six months for her to adjust. She was a country girl, but Tifa Lockhart was strong and she refused to let life defeat her.
The man Zangan had left her with had been nothing but help too. Admittedly, she'd been wary of waking up in the spare bedroom of some old man's house, but she trusted Zangan's judgment, and it became apparent that he was nothing but trustworthy fairly quickly. (Plus, once she got over her initial fear, Tifa realised she could kick his ass with relative ease, so it was hardly an issue.)
She found a job in a bar pretty quickly too. She was still underage, (not that 'underage' really meant much in the slums,) but she didn't actually have to handle the alcohol herself, and being eager to learn the ropes made her an expert in everything else in no time. Not to mention that despite her size, she could easily take on men three times her size. Well. By that point she was an asset to any establishment lucky enough to have her.
The kind of people she met there was a whole other experience for Tifa. Even with the occasional city folk who she guided up Mt. Nibel, she'd never met anyone like some of the people who hung around after hours. But aside from the trash, there was a genuinely lovely group who came in at least once a week.
There was one, especially, who she found easy to get along with. He was rough around the edges, certainly, but he had a wide-eyed determination that reminded her of Cloud. Not to mention, even though the two of them had long since shaken off their accents, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was from a small village, just like her. It was a small comfort, but you took what you could get.
He struck up a conversation with her at the bar one night, the other three were arguing about... something or other, she couldn't hear them all that well. (Though one of them was very loud, and Tifa couldn't help but wince whenever he slammed his... arm? Down on the table to make a point.)
"Yanno, we've been comin' here near on a year now and none've us know yer name." By now, just a little bit tipsy, he'd started drawing out his words with a slight drawl, and Tifa couldn't help but grin at having her suspicions confirmed.
"Tifa." She smiled brightly, somewhat practiced for the sake of tips, but the bright look in her eyes was completely genuine.
"Biggs," he replied, offering his hand out to her in greeting. "Yer not from around here, are ya?" He grinned, like he'd solved a great puzzle.
--And Tifa gulped slightly, because the tone implied he was asking just where she was from. Could she even talk about it? Even if it didn't hurt to think about home, what if it was something Shin-Ra wanted to keep quiet? It wasn't exactly every day your most prized, famous General went insane and razed a village.
But something about him and his friends made her feel a little... safe. "...Nibelheim."
"Ah, come from a similar place m'self." There was a heavy pause between the two of them, and something about it made Tifa think that maybe he knew just what had happened to her home. Maybe something similar had happened to his own. Wherever it was.
"Shin-Ra makes strays fr'm a lot'f us."